


Brackium Emendo

by test_kard_girl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Friendship, Gen, Grumpy Old Men, daddy issues abound, slight angst, writing gen fic for your fave ships since time began
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/test_kard_girl/pseuds/test_kard_girl
Summary: Harry and Draco have a conversation, postThe Cursed Child. Or try to. They're bad at it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter
Kudos: 8





	Brackium Emendo

This map isn't like the one his dad made. Harry can't see people, just events; connections. Patterns of intelligence. Dawn raids and suspicious gatherings and strong communities of people protecting each other. In spinning shapes and lines of colour, he can see all the work he and his department have done, and all the actions they have upcoming, spilling out in endless projected scenarios.

It's...All a bit much for a Friday, really.

A sharp knock at his door wrenches him back to the present. Almost relieved— maybe it's Ron coming to convince him to knock-off early, _again_ _—_ Harry flicks his wand and wipes the map and all its glittering symbols into non-existence.

'Hello?' He calls.

...But of course, it isn't Ron.

'Ah. Hello Draco.'

In the doorway, the other man's mouth twitches. 'Harry.'

It still rankles a bit to be calling each other by their first names. But Harry imagines he should probably get used to it. He has the sneaking suspicion Ginny's updated their Christmas card list.

They look at each other for an awkward second, before Harry waves out the chair on the other side of his desk with a sigh. 'Still coveting my office?' He enquires, watching the other man's eyes flick curiously over the mess; the now-blank wall behind Harry's head. '...I'd hand it over willingly if you could Expulso some of this buggering paperwork.'

This is more true than the Head of Magical Law Enforcement should probably admit, and Draco smiles tightly. 'Never were one for academia, were you, P— ?' He glances at the chair, but doesn't sit. Instead, he steps back to nudge the office door shut. 'From what Scorpius tells me,' he continues 'it's probably safer in your hands... As is this.'

He reaches into the inside pocket of his robes; produces the golden Time-Turner. It glints benignly for a moment in the conjured sunlight of Harry's office before Draco places it carefully on the desk between them.

Harry looks at it. Even though there's no breeze in here, the rings keep spinning; slow, measured rotations. It _is_ different than the one Hermione had, so long ago, he thinks. More solid, more _real_ , somehow. Crammed with dark magic.

_It could have destroyed everything._

He lifts his head.

'Thankyou, Draco.'

Draco nods. His left hand side is all smudged and Harry pulls his glasses off to clean them on his sleeve.

'Have you, um, spoken to Scorpius, since--?'

'—Oh.' Draco drags his eyes back up from the Time-Turner to meet Harry's. 'Yes. Yes we've...Spoken.'

'...Good.' Harry replies, weakly. 'Good.' Why is this so difficult?

 _Because he's a sneering, evil git_ Ron's voice in his head reminds him and Harry has to fight not roll his eyes.

Draco looks at him suspiciously, but carries on, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. '...He's. He's good at potions...I'd never really--'

'—You were good at potions.' Harry remembers and blinks when Draco stares at him like he's grown an extra head.

'Yes...And Quidditch. He's getting into Quidditch.'

'Oh, I don't think Albus will ever be into Quidditch.' Harry says, a little wryly. _When in doubt, talk Quidditch_. 'Firm friends though, aren't they?' He ventures, and watches Draco fight down a dryly amused expression that is worryingly similar to one he's had on his own face. 'Strange how things turn out.'

'Ludicrous.'

They look at each other again.

Harry's about to make a pointed comment about how much work he has to finish and let Draco exit in a sanctimonious sweep of blonde and black just like Lucius used to do, when the other man clears his throat and says in a rush: 'Look, I was thinking. After...' He waves an ironic hand '...Everything. Scorpius has spent a long time alone. And loneliness...' He glances at the ceiling. Harry sees him frown momentarily at the number of lost memos gathering dust up there. '...Anyway. I thought, at Christmas-time, perhaps, or next Summer--Ginny mentioned--Albus may want to come and stay with us for a week or two.'

'At Malfoy Manor?'

Harry can't help the incredulity in his voice. Draco prickles.

'Yes, well. We've got most of the blood out of the flagstones now.'

Harry stares at him and Draco buries a thumb momentarily against his eye. 'Sorry. It's. The house.' He tries again. 'It's far too big for the two of us. It's time we...Let people in, again.'

'My friends were tortured in that house Draco. You understand.'

'I don't want Scorpius to have the childhood I had.' Draco says— and his voice is hard but Harry thinks he can sense the desperation in it. He's become quite familiar with fatherly desperation over the last few weeks. 'Our house is his _home_ , and I want— I _need_ it— to contain something other than the ghosts of our collective pasts.' Draco's hand twitches— Harry has an embarrassing memory of him Mobilicorpusing him across the kitchen— but all he does is tug sharply at one well-starched shirt cuff. 'Friends, for instance. I've been told they make all the difference.'

They stare at each other. There are spots of colour high on Draco's cheekbones but he doesn't look away, and with an odd feeling in his stomach Harry realises he's known Draco— Malfoy— longer than he's known Ginny; longer than he's known Hermione, or Ron. Twenty-nine years of mutual dislike and three weeks of something approaching a tentative friendship.

...Maybe they should go for a drink or something?

_No. Bollocks. Come on Potter. One step at a time._

Carefully, Harry replaces his quill in its holder beside the others.

'I'm. Seeing Albus at the weekend.' He says eventually. It's the best he can manage. 'I'll mention it to him then.'

This seems to be enough. Draco nods, finally prising his fingers from the edge of Harry's desk. 'Thankyou.' He says.

He makes to go. Ron could appear any minute now and make things even more frosty, but Harry can't help a final question.

'This— ' Carefully, he picks the Time-Turner from his desk. He can feel Draco's eyes on it, and then on him. 'Draco. This department searched Malfoy Manor dozens of times after Voldemort fell... You could've gone to Azkaban just for keeping hold of this.'

The other man looks at him. Harry can't read his expression at all. But perhaps he doesn't need to.

'...My father gave it to me.'

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, revisiting the Potter fandom. Look, if you ping me your Drarry prompts I could totally get on board with this ship. Enemies-to-lovers is my _favourite_.


End file.
